


Spare Time for Space Pirates

by Shocotate



Category: The Wonderful 101 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Gen, Hobbies, Memories, Mental Anguish, Outer Space, Plastic Models, Pre-Canon, Reminiscing, Slavery, Space Pirates, Spaceships, mini Angst, why isn't anyone else writing fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shocotate/pseuds/Shocotate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs a hobby. Even Prince Vorkken once had a hobby, and he still does, kinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spare Time for Space Pirates

**Author's Note:**

> After being away forever I return with this new little oneshot of a fanfiction- a fanfiction that no one’ll ever ever read, because this game is underrated [and that’s terrible :(] but a fanfiction nonetheless. 
> 
> This was basically me hyping myself up after completing the game, and in hype preparation for me meeting Quinton Flynn at a convention this summer.
> 
> I have no idea how this turned out, but I’m the only Wonderful 101 fanfiction here so I have nothing to compare against, I suppose :3
> 
> The fic is set a couple of days before the start of the game :)

Amidst the stillness of what could be considered night, the Meizerr continued its drowsy prowl among the stars, more drifting along than anything else, almost silent, its twin tachyon engines at little more than a hum. The shark shaped ship had been wandering for some time now, with no home to return to. Its iridescent surfaces shimmered, from blue to as dark a black as the depths of space itself, nearly going unseen, while its linings of what appeared to be teeth shined the deepest red of its captain's eyes, the perfect contrast, and ever so stylish.

Only one figure sat upon the unprotected top deck. There he was- the heir to the throne of the once roaming Rhullo, Prince Vorkken, perched on his captain's chair, musing.

If Vorkken had genuinely forgotten to raise the ship's force field he didn't notice; his Vanzen suit dealt with any issues that might arise, and the ship itself solved anything gravity related. More often than not he found himself content in staying up on top deck during his wanderings across the galaxy, gazing out into the stars and upon other stretches of the universe that he could have seen up close on a whim, but there were more relevant matters at the moment. One such being the Geathjerk's third attempt at invading the planet Chi-Q in nearly as many centuries, in Rhulloian time at least. The past several nights had been spent sipping tea and flicking through his Guide Book in preparation of things to come in the coming days. On this particular night the chair arm, more often acquainted with Vorkken's own arm during most hours (or occasionally his head during naptime) was instead making its acquaintance with a small box. And that was strange, that upon the pinnacle of Guyzoch technology sat a very plain and very ordinary box.

On the subject of how this unusual occurrence came to be, one would assume to begin at the beginning. Perhaps not the _very_ beginning, two hundred and sixty years prior, rather, something a tad closer, such as half an hour earlier.

Finding the box had been an oddity in itself. In between digging around for enough tea to last the next few days (he really did need to restock, no matter how much he reprimanded Chewgi for not searching the supply deck hard enough), he'd stumbled upon the box, drowned in dust and other unpleasant things, but with nothing better to occupy himself he had been rather curious. And so here the box -and a fresh cup of tea- now occupied the space on the arms of his chair.

Looking upon the newly dusted box, he could tell at once what it was, or rather, what it held, all in pieces as it should be, incomplete and simply…waiting, waiting for the very moment he was to discover it. Already he had plucked out the layers of framework, sprue, and unfolded the instructions, glue at the ready.

Ah, his beloved Meizerr. It was clear, to him at least, that this wash of grey pieces could only be that, even without the diagrams. He knew every intricate part so well, as he should, it was _his_ ship after all, he had designed it, helped build it, everything. Vorkken was certain he could make this plastic formed replica of it without the instructions, and even with his eyes closed. He wouldn't though, wearing his mask made it tricky enough to see, no point in testing himself further.

A 1/666.666666667 scale model, it said, laced with the fastidious specifics in scaling his parents would always request when his models were commissioned. Dislodging the pieces from the sprue, the erstwhile prince began his late night construction, the red lined arm proving itself to be a sturdy makeshift work desk, the glowing LEDs creating ample lighting as well. Vaguely he wondered how he had ever come to be unaware of this particular model for so long, given its rarity, likely the only one to have ever existed. He doubted he'd be able to determine how old the model was, or how long it had dwelled in the supply deck unseen, unused.

Rhullo scarcely had any spacecrafts of note; certainly very few had been created specifically for warfare. There had never been a need for them. The scale models produced had always been more in the vein of the imperial ships, those perfect, majestic vessels that would drift along the ice-floe lakes of Southern Rhullo in the summer; Models created to highlight beauty and craftsmanship, rather than anything of combat ability. If he thought about it, Vorkken recalled possessing a scale model of one such ship in his youth, his father's ship even. Though, thinking on it further, he remembered it far more vividly when he had been there, in those so many brief weeks he had spent away from his studies, frolicking on the deck with his mother and father at his side, and someone else too, perhaps. But that was beside the point. This was about models, not memories.

It was a matter of precision, lining everything up perfectly and then assembling it, all the pieces working together to form the ship completely; a simple version of true engineering, really. Even as a child the workings of it all had fascinated him, and his parents had been there to nurture that fascination, providing him for whatever he wished, whenever he wished, without it being considered spoiled, of course. His responsibilities as heir were far too important for something like that to get in the way, and even from that early age he had been well aware of them. He had always been a dutiful son, immersed in his studies, wanting everything to be perfect, trying ever so hard at everything he did, and yet…

Vorkken ran a drop of glue across an edge soon to become part of the ship's hull, his uncovered eye squinting for the sake of being extra accurate.

Still, it had all worked out in the end, hadn't it?

He glued some more, squinted some more, and once or twice filed down some askew bits of plastic. The idea of taking off his mask did not cross his mind once.

Another hour passed without note. It did not matter in the slightest. He had plenty of time, in space the very concept of time changed depending on where one was in the universe, and apparently Chi-Q was no exception to that. It seemed their days were much longer, and the star the planet was tethered to was far less demanding in how often it revolved around it, nearly ten Rhulloian years, give or take. It could take some getting used to, though of course, why would they be visiting for any extended period of time? If Geathjerk were so assured in their abilities to invade the planet _this_ time, then it would take no time at all, though he was quite certain he would obtain a new addition to his army before then. Having no planet to return to could cause problems on keeping them loyal, but where could they possibly go otherwise? Oh, there were so many endless possibilities, but only one outcome. The strong would be given the opportunity to join him, and the weak would fall, as it should go. Even across trillions of light-years the Rule of the Universe persisted, as it always would.

That wasn't a hobby, not like this. His formation and cultivation of the Guyzoch was no hobby, he wasn't making a- _collection_ of underlings sampled from the planets he visited, no, nothing of that ilk. Even in the past his real hobbies had never been to amass as many things as possible, more to feed his curiosity and develop his skills. He was nothing like Heyourgah, in the habit of 'collecting' planets he helped destroy, those desolated, barren planets he had allowed to linger, frozen in the aether of space simply out of amusement. There was no style, no class in such an abhorrent 'hobby', nothing gained in knowledge or power by doing so. Should they ever cross paths in the ensuing invasion of Chi-Q, Vorkken was quite sure their conflicts of interest would wind up all the worse for the 2nd class officer, but he didn't muse upon it any longer than that.

There. The now solid, though still completely grey model was finished, as perfect a replica as any that would ever come after. A smile that was nearly real pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he almost considered lifting his mask so he could admire it properly, with all three eyes, almost. That could come later. All that remained now was to let the glue set, and then paint it. Now, where were the paints? Had he left them in the box? A few moments later he had plucked three small glass phials of paint, and a thin paintbrush out.

Hm, the paints would probably be one for the main colour, the accent colours, and shading perhaps? Yet, something seemed amiss; these paints were white and two pale blues.

This wasn't right.

This was a model of the Meizerr, was it not? Every piece of plastic implied only that, and he could never mistake it for another. He remembered, he had designed the ship with the very intention of it matching his royal suit, and with the offset being that of his eye colour. His eyes were red, and so too must be his ship's accents. And that was undoubtedly the truth, and had always been so. Of course…

Still, he could not, and would not let something as silly as wrong paint ruin his indulgence into his hobbies. These— _other_ paints being here was nothing of concern, and it was nothing more than a matter of the _real_ paints having been lost to time, a simple mistake of colours, and one that could easily be remedied without a second thought. That less than genuine grin replaced the previous as he turned on the intercom.

"Chewgi, set a course to stop off at the nearest tea and paint supplier. We're going shopping."

"Yes, Master."

Chewgi was oh so efficient, which was for the best. He hoped whoever he would encounter on Chi-Q would be as loyal and sensible, sensible enough to join him at the very least. But that wasn't important right now; the Geathjerk's war with Chi-Q could wait. At the moment, tea and painting were far more important.

"Good. Tell me as soon as when we arrive. Do not dawdle now."

Pushing himself to his feet, Vorkken scooped up the neat grey model with both hands, and headed towards the lower deck, the V-Star trailing behind with his tea. Already he was in the midst of considering where he could set it down in his room. Once it had been painted properly of course.

It would take a while, but this could all be fixed soon enough, and then his replica would be complete and perfect as it should be. But before that, naptime.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was ok :) I was a little worried about writing the fic when I heard about Vorkkie's hobby at first, since I don't really know much about plastic model making, but I think it is a good hobby for him, it kinda fits considering he designed his Meizerr. I am in the opinion of believing that he had the Meizerr back on Rhullo since it looks like the white and blue ships seen in the flashback pictures, and that he just gave it a paint job once he made the Guyzoch, along with his suit.
> 
> I tried to imply that Rhullo’s days are naturally shorter than those on Earth, given how there are 10 Rhullo years in one Earth year; I decided upon Rhullo days being only 12 hours long, and their years being 73 Rhulloian days long, or 36.5 Earth days. I also did this to explain why he seemingly has to take naps, as he would have been used to staying awake for less time than on Earth (though in the Japanese version he says ‘oyatsu no jiken’ which is like, afternoon snack time, but it was possibly intentionally misinterpreted as ‘oyasu no jiken’ and ‘oyasu’ means ‘good night’, but hey, naptime is funnier so it works).
> 
> Also, just in case some people don’t remember about Heyourgah, he’s the 2nd class Geathherk officer guy who you only meet as a grave during operation 006-C as Vorkken has already killed him. You can see him very briefly though during the flashback cutscene in Operation 006-B between Gimme and Walltha. In his Geathjerk file though it’s implied that he’s the one who killed Vorkken’s parents, and played a big part in destroying Rhullo.


End file.
